Sandler Takes A Baby Step Toward Maturity

June 25, 1999|By TODD ANTHONY Film Writer

Grow up. Fly right. Be tolerant of others. But never, ever give a former Hooters waitress a break.

Adam Sandler's latest variation on the regular-guy-gets-the-girl formula doesn't exactly have much to offer in the way of profundity. But Big Daddy sires enough laughs to make all but the toughest cynics overlook its flaws. It may not enjoy the moments of high hilarity and low comedy of the Austin Powers sequel, but there are fewer dead spots.

The movie spends more time developing its story than any previous Sandler vehicle, but that's not necessarily a good thing; the tired, cliche-ridden narrative is the film's weakest component. You'd have a 30-second promotional spot for a wings-'n'-breasts restaurant chain if you threw out all the plot elements not borrowed from Chaplin's The Kid -- not to mention Three Men and a Baby and every abandoned-rugrat-paired-with-an-unlikely-foster-parent film in between.

Sandler plays 32-year-old Sonny, a law school grad who has been living off the proceeds of a generous insurance settlement that followed a minor accident. Sonny is content to work part-time as a tollbooth attendant and bounce from his favorite sports bar to his couch until girlfriend Vanessa (Kristy Swanson) lays down the law: Join the ranks of the grown-ups or else.

Screenwriters Steve Franks, Tim Herlihy and Sandler lay on the sentiment as Sonny temporarily takes custody of a 5-year-old boy to impress Vanessa. Surprise, surprise -- the plan backfires. Sonny gets the kid but loses the girl. But not to worry; early on we're introduced to a sweeter, less shrill character (a Sierra Club attorney played by Joey Lauren Adams) who will step into the vacant love-interest spot.

Needless to say, Sonny's approach to child rearing is a tad unconventional. Little of it seems remotely plausible, but Sandler makes it work on the strength of his lovable doofus charm. Whether paper-training the boy (a stopgap solution to a bed-wetting problem), installing a "Live Nudes" neon sign as a nightlight, or teaching the kid to watch football and curse at the Jets, Sandler finds laughs by bringing up baby with a mildly absurd flair.

While some of the jokes are crude (and nearly all of them are juvenile), Sandler once again rejects the hip abrasiveness associated with some of his Saturday Night Live alumni. He gets incredible mileage out of shrugs and sheepish smiles.

Thematically, he's inherited the mantle of another guy who fused working-class values with a rock 'n' roll sensibility, a guy Sandler parodied to great effect on SNL -- fellow name of Brooce. (Not by coincidence does Springsteen's Growin' Up festoon the soundtrack.) Big Daddy may not land the comedian on the covers of Time and Newsweek, but it marks another step in the evolution of a class clown who's trying to come to grips with the ties that bind.